


Father of War

by RingmasterHev



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa: Another Episode
Genre: Gen, battle against despairrrrrrRRR, holy bittersweet reunion batman, ishimaru's father returns from war, junko is the "queen" btw, war AU???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 08:09:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3642999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RingmasterHev/pseuds/RingmasterHev
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takaaki Ishimaru reunites with his 12 year old son after being in battle for a year.  Ow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Father of War

“The Queen is dead.  The war is over.”  Those were the words that swarmed throughout the normally-tranquil camp.  Said words beamed out of the refugees’ mouths in such euphoric, benevolent manners, the refugee grounds might have been mistaken for a land of regular jovial merriment.  Even little Kiyotaka, who had been an occupant at the refugee camp for nearly two years now, rejoiced with his orotund voice and expressive gestures.

Now that the war was over, it was time for all of the soldiers from the camp’s militia to return.  It started out as a great reason for the rest of the civilians to throw a celebratory event.  Families that were directly affected prepared food while the children pranced around in a frenzy.  The hours everyone had to wait ticked by at a snail’s pace, creating a restless aura within the camp.

Slowly but surely, it was announced that those who fought were in sight beyond the camp’s walls.  As if the residents had rehearsed a musical number, everyone flew to their undetermined, undesignated spots while awaiting the soldiers.  Crowds swarmed on either side of the exterior doors that those returning from combat would enter through.

The doors opened with agonizing slowness.  Heads poked out behind those in front of them, anticipating to greet their fellow warriors.  However, the expression the very first man who came through had erased all forms of merriment within the drop of a dime.  He was smiling, yes, but it was broken.  He was happy to be back, he was happy they won the war, he was happy to be alive, but all that he had witnessed during the battles were carried with him and displayed clearly upon his gruff features.  Within moments, however, his broken smile changed into pure gentility.  A little girl, around the age of five, ran on wobbly legs towards him, spurting “daddy” numerous times.  Flicking away a tear that carelessly slid down his cheek, the man picked up the little girl, embracing her with his tanned, scarred arms.

The majority of the veterans had passed through the large wooden doors, greeting their loved ones with bittersweet hugs and kisses.  Ishimaru was among the crowd as well, desperately looking for the familiar red eyes and the scruff of facial hair.  Alas, he hadn’t found his hero.

Ishimaru was located rather far away from the exterior doors.  Seeing as how it’d do him good to be closer to the doors, he squeezed through the crowd, dodged arms, and ran over to said doors.  He still couldn’t find the man.  He felt hopeless.  His savior was nowhere to be seen.  The worst case scenario drowned out all possibilities of hope in the twelve-year-old’s mind.  Takaaki must have died during battle.

At this point, Kiyotaka felt it useless to stand and wait for someone who wasn’t coming back.  Tears formed, flooding the lower rims of his eyes, threatening to spill.  A large, painful mass formed in the middle of his throat, forbidding him from attempting to speak.  The boy had pivoted his body, turning towards the tent he called his home, and slowly trudged towards it.

This was all too surreal.  He must have been delusional; so delusional.  In his mind he could clearly remember how the man looked, how he acted, how he sounded, smelled, his gruff gentleness.  In fact, he can distinctly remember how he used to pronounce his name.  “Kiyotaka.”  It was so clear, as if he was physically hearing it in that instant.  Again, “Kiyotaka.”  A bit louder now, “Kiyotaka.”

Twisting his head back around, the child was greeting with the image of the hero he was so certain he had lost.  God, he looked so dead.  So tired, so worn out from battle.  But he looked happy, too…

Ishimaru didn’t have control over his legs.  They carried him, made him dash towards his father that extended his arms to embrace his trembling form.  Those tears of his finally spilled, gliding off of the boy’s cheeks and whisked off into the wind as he ran.  Within moments, the child found himself enveloped in the strong arms he’s missed for nearly a year.  Tears were streaming down both of their faces, though Takaaki’s crying was silent, like it always has been around Kiyotaka.

The older man had newly-found strength in being with his child again, and with that strength he lifted the boy up, cradling him in his grasp.  Ishimaru’s arms instinctively wrapped themselves around his neck, not daring to let go of his dear father. 

“I m-missed you… I-I missed… y-you… I… missed you…”

Those words played on repeat while Takaaki carried him back to their tent.  Besides the unusual adversity of the situation that affected both of them, he was glad to see that Kiyotaka seemed to have been well taken care of by the others who stayed in the camp.

As they walked, the boy’s words silenced gradually whilst his grip grew tighter.  As the veteran sat down in the ten, his tears dried whilst his grip also grew tighter.

After so long, they were finally reunited.


End file.
